


I Can't Believe You Forgot!

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Comedy, Fluff, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post War, Post-War, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Eternity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-19
Updated: 2008-11-19
Packaged: 2018-10-27 11:47:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10808421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Neville comes home and Harry tries to put off the inevitable.





	I Can't Believe You Forgot!

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

Neville stumbled, but managed to keep his feet as the Portkey deposited him in the back garden of the small, neatly kept cottage he shared with Harry. Shifting his grip on his suitcase, he remembered to release the cracked picture frame he held in his other hand before it triggered and returned him back to the Portkey Authority office. It wouldn’t be much of a homecoming if he had to come home a second time.

The Portkey winked out a few moments later, and Neville started toward the kitchen door. Food consisting of something a bit more substantial than cauldron cakes or pumpkin pasties sounded like a wonderful notion at the moment. He hoped Harry hadn’t emptied the icebox and the cupboards completely while he’d been away.

A sandwich and some tea, perhaps, and then Neville would check on the plants in his greenhouse to see how they’d fared in his absence before sleeping off the jet-lag. He reached for the door latch, only to be beaten to it by a split second as Harry opened the door and ushered him inside before greeting him with an enthusiastic, very thorough kiss.

“How was Seattle?” Harry asked, taking Neville’s suitcase from his hand and guiding him toward the nearest kitchen chair. “The conference was interesting? Tell me everything!”

Neville’s brows lifted as Harry bustled around the kitchen, putting on the kettle for tea and pulling out the makings for sandwiches before he even asked. It wasn’t like Harry to be quite so openly affectionate or solicitous, or to show that much interest in Neville’s work as a Master Herbologist. It wasn’t that Harry wasn’t proud of Neville’s accomplishments – he was, but he usually wasn’t this keen to hear details.

“Seattle was fine,” he answered carefully, hoping his suspicion didn’t leak into his words too much. Harry would tell him what he needed to know, eventually, although sometimes it felt like prying gold from a niffler. “The coffee was good, and it rained a lot. I picked up a few souvenirs for everyone.”

“And the conference itself?” Harry prodded, slathering mustard on two slices of bread.

If anything, Neville’s brows went even higher, but he obliged Harry’s request, telling him about the absolutely fascinating lecture about the discovery of stringmoss in the temperate rainforest of Washington State and its potential uses in potions and magical medicine. There was the equally fascinating panel on the various uses of magical cacti in the American Southwest by native shamans, and the thrill Neville had felt upon finally meeting Phyllida Spore, the author of _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_. Harry hummed and made noises in all the right places while preparing his and Neville’s sandwiches, piling them with ham, cheese, tomatoes and pickles; but Neville was relatively certain if he asked Harry to repeat back even a fraction of what he’d been told, Harry wouldn’t be able to do it.

“Didn’t you visit the rainforest while you were there?” Harry asked, setting Neville’s plate in front of him. “I remember you saying you’d always wanted to go.” Squeezing Neville’s shoulder, he went back to the cooker to pour a cup of tea.

Waiting until Harry returned with the teacup, he blew across the milky surface before taking a sip, noticing it had already been doctored with just the right amount of honey as well. Harry didn’t usually do that.

Neville had the distinct feeling he was being buttered up for something.

“I spent two days in the rainforest after the conference ended, camping with two of my colleagues.” Neville proceeded to launch into an exhaustive description of the flora and fauna of the region and everything he’d seen, taking a perverse pleasure in watching Harry’s eyes glaze over. He’d _known_ Harry didn’t need or want such a complete description, but he had asked, after all.

Finishing his sandwich and tea, he stood and stretched. “Thanks for the food,” he said. “I needed it. The snack trolleys at Portkey Authority were barely adequate. Go ahead and leave the dishes in the sink, and I’ll clean up after I’ve visited the greenhouse.”

“Wouldn’t you rather shower? Or nap? Or…other things? The greenhouse will still be there tomorrow.” The dishes clattered as Harry turned around, his voice taking on a distinct wheedling tone. “Neville, I haven’t seen you in almost two weeks!”

“You’ll have me for the rest of the evening, all night, all day tomorrow…” Neville crossed his arms, resting one hip against the counter. “I’m beginning to think you’re trying to hide something. The question is what that might be.”

Harry opened his mouth to protest, the words dying before passing his lips, and his shoulders slumped in defeat. “Promise me you won’t get too angry?”

“Just tell me, Harry.”

He sighed, looking at Neville with miserable green eyes. “I know you don’t ask for much, but the past couple of weeks have been really busy for the Aurors. Someone had a lead on Mulciber, and we had to verify it, and stake out the place where he was supposedly staying, and of course there’s always the paperwork.” Heaving another sigh, he admitted, “I forgot to water the plants while you were gone.”

“What do you mean, you _forgot_?” Neville had already started for the kitchen door, yanking it open and crossing the back garden in long strides. Harry followed behind, still looking miserable. “The whole time I was away? You forgot to water them the whole time I was gone?”

“I don’t think they’re dead, at least, I’m pretty sure they’re not; but some of them are definitely more yellow or brown than green…”

Neville entered the greenhouse, looking around and biting his lip. Most of the plants were still green, but several looked decidedly sicklier than before he’d left, including his beloved _Mimbulus mimbletonia_. “When was the last time you watered them?” he asked, keeping the tremble from his voice only with great effort.

“This morning?” Harry’s smile looked almost as sickly as the plants. “See? I didn’t forget completely.”

“No, you remembered I was coming home today.” Neville turned in a slow circle, his mind cataloguing the damage. Most of the plants could probably be salvaged with a few days of steady watering and possibly some liquid fertiliser to nourish the roots, but he would almost certainly lose some. “I can’t believe you forgot, Harry! I’m the forgetful one in this relationship, not you. I thought…” Shaking his head, he Summoned a watering can and began filling it with water from his wand. “This is going to take up more of my evening than I’d planned.”

“I’m sorry. Here, I’ll help.” Harry Summoned a second watering can and began filling it. To his credit, Harry did look genuinely contrite, and Neville had never been one to stay angry for long. “Do you think you can save the _Mimbulus_? I know it’s your pride and joy.”

“I think so.” Neville began watering, picking off yellowing leaves and deadheading spent brown blooms along the way. “Its native habitat doesn’t get much water to begin. It’s actually pretty spoiled, compared to its wild counterparts. I think it missed me more than anything.” He watered around the roots of his _Mimbulus mimbletonia_ , crooning reassuringly and smiling when it crooned back. “Yeah, it’ll be okay.”

Harry studiously tended a few pots, concentrating on the stream of water pouring from his can. “Are we okay, too?” he asked without looking up. “I really am sorry, Neville. It won’t happen again.”

“Of course we’re okay. I’m only disappointed because now we won’t be able to spend more of the evening doing some of those…other things you mentioned earlier.” Neville walked around the table, wrapping both arms around Harry and drawing him into a kiss. “I also know it won’t happen again. You don’t usually make the same mistake twice.”

He didn’t say anything further, but a small smile played about Neville’s lips as he resumed watering. After all, there was nothing to stop him from beginning things before ever leaving the greenhouse. Ailing plants or not, it was good to be home.

* * *


End file.
